In our eyes, see trust
Letting our souls never rust.
Open new gates to one another.
Vowing amongst each other.
Every and always, you'll always be there.
Your love for me I'll never share.
On to a new path we'll go hand in hand.
You are my dream come true, you will always be my man.
I wrote this years ago. Also had it published in the Poetry Anthology of Canada. And made into a plaque that I have on my wall.
It's so sweet. My eyes always enjoy looking over the pictures on the teapot, smiling at the books on its handle. So now, this is where it will sit. Its home is here beside me with fun pens and pencils sticking out.
Do you have a fun cup, teapot, or vase that you use for something other than what it's meant for?
But what that masked person didn't know was that everyone was watching them. Many, MANY eyes on the masked person started talking. Conversation spread over the burning world. They had to take a gamble like rolling the dice. What each side represented, they didnt know. It was rolled to a ONE. Only one had the key to the knowledge they all sought. When the knowledge opened, the door would be unlocked.
To inspire me to sit down at my home desk I decided tidy it up. Move aside anything bulky or unnecessary. Then I went around the house and gathered what I once used but have not in a while. In the first picture, this is what it looked like after.
Do you have a favourite mug to sip out of while writing?
Do you have old writing books you bought but sadly forgot about?
Orange candle- for creativity
Orange calcite- confidence and positivity
Blue Calcite- calm, communication
Citrine- sucess and joy
Carneline- emotional balance
Rutilated Quartz- amplifying energy
Trees have always been my favourite, no matter what it's on. So the fact that it looks magical with a tree is a bonus!
Do you have a writing planner you are using? Where did you get it? Do you like using it, or would you prefer it laid out differently?
Everything I have written last year I have kept and edited. Read over and over, feeling the vibe of what I want to say in each story. I could go to the 50k with more writing time. But I am also learning my writing process, learning how much I can write in each sprint. 15min sprint I can roughtly do 300 to 400 words or a little less. Sometimes these words are thrown up through my fingertips, with a significant need to redo, reread, and/or just remove, sadly.
Finding the small pockets of time is essential to me during this time of the year. So going to my local library is something I love to do as well. Or going to the local Tim Hortons with an interesting writing buddy who has many words under his belt as well!
Finding a writing community is a must for me. Keeps me inspired to keep the fingers on the keys of the pencil to the paper.
Ignore the Esso sign, ha. Although it still gave the viewer some time, it was a simple character. This is where I sat on the mornings or evenings after a decent hike up mountains or around Canmore.
When I wasn't sitting here, I took my notebook with me. Practising on my sixth sense while sitting on the grass or rocky ground of the mountain terrain. This was truly wonderful; I felt like I had reached a place I hadn't been in a long time. Felt overwhelmingly free.
Did you go off somewhere different this summer and do some writing?
Explored a new place?
Kaye Archer
These challenges have become a lot of fun and something I genuinely look forward to now. This time around, I'll ensure that I have it filled out and ready to go, solely for my writing purposes.
The project for this July will be going over the first draft of the second book. I want to ensure it is fully finished and read it over carefully. Check on my plots. Make sure it flows and is going in the direction I want it to.
How do I plan to do this?
Writing about writing? I do enjoy this topic, really. I think about my younger self and when I truly started enjoying writing and creating stories.
I was a daydreamer; my head was always in the clouds. But making stories and ideas go from my mind to my fingertips, then to the paper. Or from the pencil to paper or pen. The love for stationery also started around this time.
I remember being about nine or ten years old. There was an ancient typewriter resting in my grandmother’s house, gathering gentle dust. Asking if I could take it home, then getting a yes was so exciting!! In my room, I set up a space on the floor where I listened first to the sound of the 'Smak-tape' when pressing down on the keys. Trying to keep my fingers over the keys properly was a true challenge. To this day, I don't type the way we were taught in school. BUT! I can type without looking down at the keys now, just a different form.
While my daughter and I were gone to Canmore Alberta. There is a sweet little book store there I just love to support! So I purchased a candle that says 'First Draft' and smells of coffee and vanilla. It sits on top of a pretty day planner for 2026. So this one will only be for my writing, where and when Ill be to get my writing done. Also what sense Ill be working on and or character development.
Kind thinking about finding a old planner to keep up the time line in my story world. What do you think???
THanks for reading friends!
Over the last few weeks, life has been up and down. If it's not one thing, it's another. Making me and my daughter move in the motion of life, with up and down corners and some stops. But it feels like we are just going through the motions.
Like that part in the movie Click when he sees him self on autopilot so he can just get through the days, fast-forwarding his life to get to where he wants.
This is definitely not a good plan for us or for anyone. How do we slow down? Relax and rest when there is so much going on that we NEED to handle. Whether it be family issues, personal or global.
Since it’s Friday, I’m looking back over the week to reflect on what I did, where we went, and what happened. If I don’t write it down in my journal, it seems as if the days just all form into one.
The overwhelming feeling of being overwhelmed. I know what I need to do to fix this problem. Now I just need to get to work, serious work on a new HB90 plan and my Kanban board. Since these excellent tools do help. Sometimes, I forget or think I got this! But I KNOW I need these tools to keep me grounded, even with all the crystals I have in my shoes and ankles for supporting me. I still need to do the follow-through!
Wish me luck,
Do you have a system that helps you stay in the present and motivated to move forward?
Bouncing on the lawn were two giant crows. Annabell figured they got bigger and more
prominent yearly. She watched them as they stopped and picked at random things in the
grass. The one that seemed like the instigator stopped; it had found one of the many Easter
eggs Annabell’s mother said she put out on the lawn for her and her twin brothers to find.
Quickly she sprinted for the door, swinging it open and yelling at the crow as it flew away with
its partner in crime behind it. With a long sigh she closed the door, running her frustrated
fingers through her long wavy black hair. Today, though, she noticed it had a tinge of blue from
the morning sun. Her eyes were a sharp green and her skin a soft pinky pale with freckles
scattered across her nose and under her eyes. She thought she looked like a rag doll with
black hair, but no one agreed with her. Annabell waited for her mother so she could tell her
about the pesky birds.
“Mom, the stupid birds are carrying our eggs away, look!” she said. With annoyance in her voice, she urged her mother to look out the large picture window in the living room, and with frantic hands she pushed aside the heavy caramel curtains, but it was too late: they were gone. “They were just there,” she whispered, wondering why they seemed to disappear right at the perfect moment, making her look like a liar.
“Don’t be blaming the birds for everything.” Her mother paused for a moment and looked down at her hands in thought. She stood with Annabelle and looked out the window as well. She touched one of her braids over her thin shoulders. It was straight and blond, but braided today. Skin pale and flawless, rosy lips and light blue eyes. With a smile, she looked up at Annabelle again.
“Happy Easter, my dear.” Her mother smiled happily as she watched her husband coming down the tall winding staircase from the second floor of their country home. Her parents started getting their usual Easter breakfast ready. Annabell watched out the window—one magpie and two small crows bounced on the lawn again. All the snow had melted away and green grass was starting to shoot from the tan dead grass from the year before. To her it looked as if the birds were talking; she was sure they were. Every so often the magpie would stop and look at her through the window and crook its head before picking rocks and sticks up off the ground. Both crows fluttered from the clothesline to the lawn chairs and looked down at the flowers. One plucked at a sparkling green rock then tossed it aside. Annabelle thought to herself that they were somewhat beautiful in an enchanting way. Each crow’s wings changed from black to metallic blue, like her hair, she thought in wonder. Where did they go when they picked things up and carried them away? And why so many little things that they certainly couldn't eat?
“Annabell, breakfast is ready. Will you tell the boys to come up from downstairs, please.” Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at her father who spoke to her in that stern tone. He was tall and handsome with dark blond hair and sky-blue eyes. To her he resembled Superman only with blond hair and not black like hers. Last year for Halloween that’s who he was, and their mother was Lois Lane. Annabell left the window to walk through the long living room then the kitchen to where the door stood to the basement, heavy and secretive. This was not a space she spent time in since her twin brothers had taken it over, one with his science lab and the other with a gaming station and maps of the world, and a single religious picture above the world map.
“Tyler and Troy, happy Easter! Mother says breakfast is ready, so Father wants you upstairs.” Both boys had rooms in the basement. It was huge, almost like another smaller home with a comfortable reading area and a small fridge in the corner. There was a bathroom too, which they took turns cleaning, since they were boys after all. The twins were thirteen years old. While Annabell was sixteen, she still remembered the day she was told she was having twin brothers. Which, at the time, felt unfair and seemed like some type of evil punishment. Standing at the bottom of the stairs she watched both boys stagger to their bedroom doors with messy hair and rumpled pajamas. Their faces lit up as smiles slowly lifted their eyes. They ran past Annabell and up the stairs to see what their mother had in store, since their mother and father always did something special for them during holidays. It didn't matter how old they got there would always be fun, their mother had always said.
“Boys slow down, don’t knock your mother over while she’s putting breakfast out,” their father ordered the twins. After a small argument the family sat down for breakfast. It was a cheerful moment, with the smell of sandalwood candles lingering in the air and spring flowers in assorted vases placed throughout the house. The table was set with a vintage cream tablecloth, and in each setting were flower placemats. Breakfast on this Easter morning was scrambled eggs with tiny sausages and a side of fruit. Father poured orange juice while Mother made sure everyone had fruit on their plates.
“Can we go now, please? Go outside and look for our eggs? How many did you hide this year?” Troy, as always ready to go, pushed his plate away and moved his chair back. Their father gave him a stern look and Troy settled back down in his chair. He looked over at his twin.
“I'm excited too, Troy, I would just like to eat something. It's a proven fact that if you eat fast it can cause problems, and breakfast is an important meal of the day.” He pushed his glasses back up to his eyes then crammed more food into his mouth, followed with more orange juice. He ate slowly and placed his fork down on the table, mostly to annoy his brother.
“Are you for real right now?” Troy glared over his orange juice, and then looked over at Annabelle who gave a small smile and shrugged.
“OK, looks like we are all done. Let's go outside.” Their mother laughed happily, and Father leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. The three children pushed their chairs back and raced to the back door of the house. Most of their family events happened in the backyard. Their mother planted rows of flowers beds, trees that bore fruit, and berry bushes they picked when ripe. This spring it seemed to bloom all at once; it was a wonderful thing to see. Annabell stopped to look around. She stepped to where the magpie was earlier to find nothing there. The five of them looked around, walking slowly, trying to find the eggs Mother had hidden.
“There were ten for each of you this year, I swear I hid them back here. Maybe look in front.” Her mother’s questioning eyes moved to their father as the three children ran to the front yard. “They can't just up and disappear, Henry. There was blue for Tyler, green for Troy and purple for Annabell.” Their mother looked up at her husband, whose eyes were squinting from the sun. He had questions in his mind he wanted answered as well. None of this made sense.
“Right before we came out, birds were picking things up and packing them away, like the little green pebbles I dropped in the flower bed yesterday.” Annabell watched their father stiffen for a moment. He looked at their mother, then into the distance where a large raven was circling in the field. “But I don't know how so many eggs could disappear from ravens and crows.” Annabell looked up into her father's eyes; they darkened with anger. She knew this look well since there were things that annoyed and flustered their father, and birds were one of them.
“I don't like to go on and blame the birds for things, it's not right. Look at them, they are weak, they can't go picking up stuff like that.” He looked to his wife who just watched him, tilting her head and looking into his eyes. For a long moment they stood in silence.
“Mom? Dad? What's the matter? What’s going on?” Troy asked as Tyler came running behind him. “Most time birds will pack things away to their nests thinking it is another egg to eat, or to collect shiny things.” Troy sat down on the lawn chair that was closest to him, and took a long-needed breath.
“But . . . they took all of them, all our Easter eggs.” Being sixteen and still young at heart, Annabell felt sad and somewhat defeated by birds which made no sense to her at all. “Can't we just go look for them and get them back?” With that, the decision was made. Their parents did not argue with them but just watched as the three began walking down into the field, the one they grew up running and playing in, flying kites and making trails. Today something felt different. This Easter morning had turned into a wild scavenger hunt, not planned but forced.
Henry and Gabriela stood watching their three children wander down to the field. Chasing birds had somehow taken their Easter joy away. Gabriela knew she had more than enough, but had forgotten how mischievous the magpie and crow were. “They should leave well enough alone,” she said out loud, watching her husband study the house. He turned to her and frowned, like he used to with his sister Bea, whom they never spoke of anymore.
“This nonsense is going too far. Why hasn’t this stopped? The charm is gone and so is Bea, so why has this not stopped?” he mostly asked himself walking around the large country home, passed down from generation to generation. It was built from the trees on the property years ago when his grandfather owned the land; he harvested everything to make what he could. High on a hill it stood giant and powerful-looking, with many windows and a large wraparound deck. Four bedrooms upstairs with two full baths and two bedrooms on the main floor, and each floor had a bathroom. The basement didn't look like a basement, but another smaller house with more rooms and a bathroom. Henry was the fourth child and the oldest, his sister Bea was the youngest and sickly from birth.
“Maybe if we found that charm Bea gave Annabell years ago it won't be so bad?” Gabriela said as she looked into the china cabinet that had been her mother-in-law’s, passed down like the house and everything in it. Sometimes she felt like a visitor in her own home.
She opened the door and touched Bea’s picture. She pulled it out and held onto it, looking at it closely. “More and more, Annabell is looking like your sister and your grandmother.” Henry took the picture from her hands and studied it closely, to the point it seemed as if her hair was flowing in the breeze like it would today. He dropped the picture and the frame smashed, sending glass scattering on the hardwood floor. Tiredly, he sat on the couch, looking up at his wife.
“I'm sorry, love, for making the mess, just . . .” he trailed off and looked up at her. She looked sad and lost again. He couldn't have her feeling like that. Slowly he stood and took her in his arms, smiled at her then leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Everything will be fine. The children will come back empty-handed but the day will go on as it would have before.” They walked to the front door and stood on the deck in the shade from the deck. Looking down the field, they saw only the small specks of their children walking away from their home.
***
The long-dried grass from last year pulled at Annabell's naked legs under her navy-blue Sunday dress, making her itchy. New signs of spring lingered in areas around her. Sniffing the air, she caught the scent of fresh grass growing from under the old. New soft and bright-green baby leaves hung on branches of small saplings around her. Her brothers scratched at their legs from the dry grass pulling on their skin as well, both boys in plaid button shirts and jean cut-offs. Halfway down the field they stopped and looked up into the clear blue sky, sun streaming over their heads. Up in the air in front of them was a magpie, and in its beak was something small and shiny.
“That . . . is a magpie,” Tyler said, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose again before turning to look at Annabelle and Troy. “I suggest we follow that bird before we lose it.” With that they began to run through the field. Sharp blades of grass snapped at their bare legs—they wore summer clothes knowing they would be trekking in the field and maybe the trees as well. As they walked to follow the bird, they disregarded the fact they were going into a forest they were not allowed to go into. At the edge of the field was a thick forest made up of swamp trees, mostly diamond willows. Their grandfather on their dad’s side would come down here and cut trees and bring the branches back to peel, then create amazing furniture—mostly rocking chairs and end tables. He told the children that, while in these woods, they should never go too far, since things were never what they seemed within the treed canopy. Standing at the edge of the forest and watching the magpie fly into it, they stopped and wondered.
“Of all the places for that bird to fly into, why that place?” Tyler looked to his twin, who shrugged and looked at his older sister.
“Well, we have to go in there now. It's probably not as bad as Grandpa said, anyway.” With that, she stepped into the forest slowly and cautiously. The forest floor crunched under her feet—leaves from last year and dead grass. Small sticks snapped, making her jump at her own footing. Soon the surrounding air seemed to thicken. Or maybe it was just her imagination, she couldn't tell. Her dress seemed to get heavy with dampness, but it wasn't raining. She looked up and saw nothing but blue skies, the sun’s rays streaming through branches and bright green budding leaves. It was warm but cooling, but she shouldn't be feeling damp. Her hair fell heavy as she walked deeper out of the skirt of the woods. Looking at her brothers, she saw they felt the same way. They pulled at their clothes and loosened buttons on their shirts. How can a forest cause so many feelings when they had never, ever stepped foot into the place before? Everyone else did, but they were told not to, so they didn't bother with it.
“Feels weird,” both boys said simultaneously, making them stop and look at each other, then to Annabelle. That didn’t happen too often, only if they were in sync. At that moment, they must have been.
“I was thinking the same thing, but look . . . the crow we saw has something in its beak.” Annabell stopped talking and walked toward the nest, both boys following behind her. They picked up their pace as it went behind the trees. Around them sunshine sprinkled onto the tall pine trees and a few of the black poplar that stood among the swampy greens. A soft breeze ruffled leaves and branches, barely giving the three children a glimpse of the three birds sitting at the top of a diamond willow tree, one magpie, one crow, and one raven.
“Now there’s something you don't often see,” Tyler said to his siblings while walking slowly toward the strange-looking diamond willow tree. Each leaf seemed to give off a sharp emerald glow. “This is a strange tree indeed. And the fact that those three birds are together is stranger,” he said again, watching and listening. His siblings did the same. Clicking chatting sounds came from the magpie, then a horrible cawing from the crow. With a swift flap the raven made a sharp clucking sound like the magpie—each bird made sounds close to humans sounds. Their chirping and clicking went quiet as the sun's beams seemed to trail back to the nest.
Looking up at the nest with sunlight streaming over their faces, each squinted as they tried to watch the birds to see what they were placing into the nest. Soon a warm wind rustled the branches, making the leaves swish and flutter. Three sparkles of green and blue seemed to touch the nest.
“What was that? Did you see, Annabell? Where did the birds go?” Troy looked up and around, then at his twin, waiting for him to give a smarty-pants comment, since he always seemed to know everything about everything.
“I did see that, Tyler . . . any idea what just happened?” She knew her younger brothers were only thirteen, but she still had to ask the question. Both boys excelled in school; “strangely smart for their age,” people would say. Their parents said it was a blessing, another one. She figured having twin brothers was enough of a blessing. Being sixteen now with twin thirteen-year-old brothers didn't seem like a blessing. Although, right now, she was glad she had them with her, since at that moment something strange was going on.
“I can't answer that question.” Tyler looked up into the odd diamond willow tree. “I'm assuming we have had too much sun and should just go back home.” Tyler started to push his way back through the thick forest when his brother got a hold of his arm.
“Look, Tyler.” Troy's voice held a question in it. He looked up at the nest. Teetering at the edge and holding its balance by a thin twig was a shiny silver pen. Tyler pulled away from his brother’s grasp and stood still.
“Did those birds take your pen, Tyler?” Annabell asked. She watched her brother shake his head in wonder.
“I forgot it outside last year when I was working on my science project, my favorite pen.” Anger and annoyance made Tyler’s top lip twitch, something he got from their dad. He stepped forward but stopped, looking over at Annabell and Troy.
“I'm wondering what else they have up there.” Annabell turned to Troy, who was usually all over adventurous ideas like this. And he was—she could see his eyes sparkling and twinkling with curiosity and wonder.
“Let’s go.” Troy started walking toward the tree with Annabell and Tyler behind him. Once at the tree they looked up at the nest where the three birds had disappeared from just moments before. “It doesn’t look that far up, guys, let's start climbing.”
Annabell started the climb first; she agreed with her younger brother that it didn't look that high up, maybe six feet or fewer. With her hands on the tree, she felt the rough-textured diamond pressing into her skin. It felt familiar and normal. As she pulled herself higher and higher, watched by her brothers, she noticed the smell of swamp was not as intense as it was before; it seemed to waft up to her nose.
They reached the top together. They held still to the branches and sat. After looking at each other intensely, they peered into the nest, not knowing what they would find.
“Oh my word! My pen and my test tube—look! The glass slides from my . . .” Tyler trailed off and looked up at his twin, who saw things he thought he misplaced too.
“The silver and white ear buds I saved up for. I can't believe all of these are in this one nest.” He ran a frustrated hand over his face, leaving smudges of mud over his nose and chin. With annoyed expressions on their faces they looked up at Annabell, who too was looking into the nest with questions on her face and eyes narrowing in annoyance.
“The size of this nest is insane, Tyler. How is this even possible?” She had to ask him since she could see his gears turning. His eyes looked down then up again, touching the nest itself and frowning hard with another hand over his face.
“I don't know, we are now . . . looks like fifteen to twenty feet in the air. Also, the size of this nest was normal when we were down there—whatever normal is right now. Now looking in and across this nest it must be at least fourteen feet in width. This all makes no sense, and I think we have had too much sun.” He looked to Annabelle with a matter-of-fact expression.
“Everything in this nest is silver and shiny, have you noticed? And look, wait . . . what is that?” Her mind was so confused, she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
On her twelfth birthday she was given a single diamond shaped into an egg on a delicate silver chain. It was given to her by her Aunty Bea on her dad's side. That day was a hot day, and the two of them sat outside at the picnic table drinking homemade lemonade she made earlier that day. Annabell had taken off the new gift and placed it on the table so her aunty could put her long hair into a fishtail braid. Just as Annabell sat down in front of her aunty, chaos came from inside the house. They both jumped up to see what had happened. A young magpie had flown into the house from the back; it darted around the house in a frantic whirlwind. Annabell could remember her parents trying to get the bird back out, and her brothers watching and laughing with excitement. Her aunty, however, was shouting at it to leave them alone—her father had called her on talking to the birds. Soon after, the bird swished out the door with its metallic black-blue wings with white trim. Everything was still and quiet. She and her Aunt Bea went back outside to start the braid in her hair. That was when her father had asked where her necklace went. Why did she take it off, and why hadn’t she put it somewhere safer than the picnic table? From that day on she kept looking for it, hoping and wishing it would show up, but it never did. Shortly after the necklace was misplaced, their Aunt Bea became sick and was taken to a hospital, where they couldn't visit since it was too far away. Annabelle never understood what had happened that day or how sick her aunty was.
“Annabell, what are you doing? You're going to fall in!” Intense fear came from Tyler and Troy’s voices as they spoke in unison. They watched as their sister’s eyes glazed over, staring at something in the nest. “Troy, what is she looking at? She isn't even listening to us. It's like she’s in a trance or something.” He watched his sister, then looked over in the direction she was looking. There, in a mess of twigs, was a small diamond egg with a chain wrapped in mud and twigs.
The world they knew fell away around them. It pixilated apart, and they seemed to fall into a deep dusty hole that smelled like dead leaves and damp dirt. Branches and twigs snapped around them, scratching their faces and limbs, making both boys twitch in sudden pain. The boys held onto each other, then realized their reach for Annabelle was too far. They shouted at her, but their voices filtered away into the swirling mess around them.
Something sharp jabbed Annabell down her back. Her eyes snapped open as if for the first time in hours. Her long black hair flew around her in a mad mess. How was she falling so fast? What had happened in that short amount of time? Her dress pressed against her body as she seemed to fall at an insane speed. Desperately, she searched for her brothers in this downward spiral she was falling in. What had happened when she saw that small diamond egg she once wore around her neck? Where did the necklace go? She felt around her neck and realized it was there, like it once was so many years ago, as if she had never taken it off. Only now it felt too heavy for something so small.
Finally, she spotted her brothers. Her heart pounded and her ears and eyes were became fuzzy and dim. She knew this feeling and tried to fight against it. A single moment passed, and she knew she had lost the fight.
Both boys’ eyes looked in the direction of a swirling mass of navy, realizing it was their older sister. Her hair was a mass of swirls around her face and neck; her dark navy summer dress was molded against her body. She now looked like the rag doll she had always complained she was.
